


Guilty Pleasure

by BureauofBadBehavior



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Body Worship, Corrin's basically lovesick, Fantasizing, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Gratuitous Smut, Lovesickness, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, particular emphasis on bara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BureauofBadBehavior/pseuds/BureauofBadBehavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as he doesn't reach Nina levels of self-delusion, a somewhat hopelessly romantic prince figures that a little fantasizing wouldn't hurt. Maybe. Especially since nearly the male he fancied is a bit out of reach.</p><p>EDIT: I planned for this to be a self-indulgence series involving more Fates guys but I'm converting this into a Hinata-only fic due to wanting to work on other things. Sorry and cheers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's best imagined with the Build 2 Male avatar (the taller one). Again, ultimately up to your own imagination, fam.

Corrin is usually considered an efficient man—no other tactician or general in this world could keep nearly all of his army alive and kicking for over a year and get away with it. Naïve and wrongly optimistic, perhaps, but efficient all the same. To put his army in tip-top shape, he did as much as he could: he made sure he sure to assign the right troops to the right stores at the right times to take advantage of discounts, rationed and gathered money and food wisely, hired only the best cooks (with absolutely no apologies to Rinkah and Felicia), and allowed his units to reclass constantly, but slowly and comfortably. As risky as suddenly unifying the Hoshidan and Nohrian armies was, that, too, proved fruitful, as troops continued to forge genuine bonds and become unstoppable forces on the battlefield, all while maintaining meaningful personal relationships.

As Leo would constantly hammer into his psyche from sessions of military training, a satisfied army is a productive army, and as princes, they both would do well to accommodate and support the needs and desires of their troops somewhat.

Which was why Corrin was quite presently unsatisfied himself. Sleepless during this particular night, he adopts a temporary ritual, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, then his mirror, then nowhere in particular, and back to the mirror again. He spends minutes thinking about nothing in particular, and then stares at his reflection, who nonchalantly stares back. Then, his own image reminds him.

_This is me._

_The prince of two kingdoms. The leading tactician and general of two armies. The one who might lead bring peace and finally unite nations._

_Well, shit._

\---

It all started as early as his childhood, perhaps as mundane as the storybooks in his lone castle. For a long while, he knew he was quite different from the rest of the stock. Pointed ears and general, unexplainable disdain of footwear excluded, he knew something was off, especially in regards to his attractions. Gradually, Corrin would grow the admire the fictional princes, thieves, and the knights, off to fight bravely and rescue their maidens, more than the maidens of beauty and purity themselves. 

Sure, he can still appreciate the physical and spiritual nuances of a woman; he would be lying if he didn't enjoy Camilla, Flora, and Felicia's individual charms and company when they came to visit. However, he thinks back on both his fictional heroes and reality—the gallant knights who did their best to defend castle grounds, the fighters whose hard muscles showed and pulsed with every swing of their axes, the mercenaries who manage to keep handsome faces in spite of being worn hard by front-line fighting.

He thinks back to his efforts to keep his own body well—a mirror complex, a way get their attention and gain their respect was to be like them. 

He thinks back to a small fire that sparks inside him after viewing the male body than female in his anatomy lessons; innocently nude and drawn idealistically, every external sketched inch.

As a grown man now, having more experience in the battlefield and socially, Corrin had more of an idea of what that spark in him really was. At first, the idea was uncomfortable, as the idea of two men together already seemed alien in a world where the words “husband and wife” reigned supreme. The idea seemed even odder as one of his brothers' retainers—Niles—came back with a daughter who entertained odd habits herself. A particular instance hit him.

_“'Heeeey Lord Corrin, got any plans this fine night?' Hee hee!”_

_“'Why, of course not, Hinata! I always have time...for you...' Gods, this is awesome!”_

Even now, the prince feels the sudden, sinking feeling of guilt, of self-doubt, as he caught Nina spying on his own conversation with said swordsman (now a blacksmith) from the corner of his eye, daydreaming loudly like she always does. Although the fear ended up being unfounded (as Corrin became more knowledgeable of Nina's...peculiarities) and the feeling of tension was replaced instantly with confusion and humor the next few minutes, there was at least one thing she was on the money about. 

It would be a complete lie if he weren't at least a little attracted to Hinata's boundless energy and stamina, on top of his rough yet well-built appearance.

And maybe such an attraction applied to at least a few other male troops under his wing. Too bad they were all married, or at least in the process of getting there. Gee, that's a lot of stuff to lie about already.

Damn it.

Even if they were all available, his dreams of companionship were only fantasies. The best sorts of fantasy, really, but ones that were too good to ever come true. Such fantasies entailed embraces, feelings of fulfillment, freedom to find love as he pleased. Such fantasies included him being able to ask anyone out on a whim. But that all wouldn't actually happen. Because in reality he was a prince of nations, a leading tactician worthy of unconditional respect, a symbol of peace and strength.

_This is me._

_This is who I am and will be forever._

_Damn it all._

So he keeps that side of himself quiet. His mind would continue to refuse to acknowledge his own desires, all chained up as he continued to chain together bonds of friendships, but never ones of desire. Sometimes, he thinks of making the first move, in hopes that the other would reward somehow, but...

Nope. Nope, no, no, nope. He has to keep up his image. Let his fancied companions move on and forge their own relationships instead of being dragged in his turmoil. The people they'd meet would eventually become positive influences in battle, perhaps even tip the scales and save their lives in dire situations.

He frowned as he recalled a conclusion he had reached and practiced multiple times. No sacrifice was too little, not for the people he linked himself with. 

Which was how he found himself again in the present night, still frustrated and a bit resentful of his current position.

For a moment, his mind trails back to Nina. How that girl was vocal about her so-called “ships” despite their nigh-astronomical probabilities. About her innocence (if you could call such acts and thoughts innocent...) in her delusions of romance. About how many friends she made in spite of her oddities. 

The prince becomes somewhat envious from such thoughts, and also by how relatively easy Laslow's own daughter—Soleil— had it. Both were presently just under his wings, doing whatever they pleased (with personal limits, of course) and so were a number of people he admired. 

“Damn it.”

It wasn't long before Corrin tired himself out from his own frustrations. He puts out his candle, turns back to his mattress, and cocoons himself in his thick covers. As he gradually relaxes and lets off steam laying there, he seeks a source of coolness, never opening his eyes, until he feels a pillow. He hugs it to his entire body, legs and arms and all, and the cool air puffing from it loosens him up. He finally settles, snuggling the pillow until he feels comfortable, and attempts to let sleep overwhelm him.

But a brief moment of surprise occurs when he pulls from his ease and finds out he's getting slightly hard. How quaint.

He wants to just leave it alone and finally escape from those intense moments of isolation plaguing him all night. The throbbing feeling in his loins, however, refuses to go down after more than a couple of silent minutes.

_Well, fine, you win. My gain anyways._

The prince scowls at no one in particular and arranges the sheets so he's comfortable in his already-awkward position. The pillow, however, remained at his side as he found the cool air emanating from it still snug. As he finishes and finally returns to the main task at hand, he touches himself down there and finds himself a little harder than before.

“Hrrrmph.”

He rolls on his back and wraps his hand around his impressive, but not-quite-there-yet erection, the tip of the organ just barely brushing his comforter. He gives his dick a pull and moans quietly as feels electricity flowing down there. Gods, he hasn't taken care of himself for a while, he thinks. 

A few more strokes later, and he was nowhere near completing the deed. The cotton rubbing against his cock wasn't helping matter much either, with the wool scratching in the wrong places. He briefly gets mad at Felicia again for spilling mead on his cooler, comfortable cotton sheets earlier, but went back to attempting the task at hand. No point in soiling the poor girl's image during such debauchery.

Corrin then turns over in bed and remember his pillow is there. He recalls its cool temperature and softness like a favorite meal, how smooth it is compared to the roughness of the wool sheets above him. His circulation begins beating again when he wraps his body around the bag of feathers, placing his cock conveniently against a soft fabric valley. Gods, that felt better. 

The prince groans as modestly as he could as he began his lewd midnight escape, absolutely loving the smooth feel around his shaft. For a moment, he ponders if this was what a man, let alone another body, felt like—given his self-limitations, he likely would never find out. He wonders, actually, if any man would even like or want it. 

Before he even begins to reject such thoughts, his mind flashes back to his earlier troubles, and, as if time and space froze just for himself, his thoughts stop at a single person.

Hinata.

He recalls several of the blacksmith's traits like he memorized them in a lifetime. Corrin had always enjoyed how Hinata's usual cheerful disposition never changed, the way he smiled towards his anybody as if they were already friends, the way his grin brightened up the darkest of battlefields. It was...cute. And so were those training scars on those freshly trained biceps. 

Oh, how he wanted him in his quarters already.

Corrin is suddenly surprised at his thoughts and recovers from the state long enough to realize he was delving in an unsinkable ocean. He's pushing the ship before even making sure there were no holes at the bottom. He wasn't even sure Hinata would approve of this in the first place.

A sudden rush of guilt and chagrin overcame him, stunning him for a deep spell. Was he really using his brother's retainer as an object for his own self-gratification? What if he finds out? Should he really be thinking about him at a time like this?

Fuck.

He should off himself with his own Yato, maybe let Azura take care of things while Ryoma and Xander are behind her. Oh yeah, that's such a bloody amazing, well-thought plan. Maybe he should announce it when he isn't relieving himself in his bed.

Corrin blinks suddenly, a little rattled by his rare pessimistic side, but long enough to finally analyze a sight: his cock was at full length, throbbing at a higher rate than before. He bites his lip, feeling unusually more satisfied than before.

So this was the firepower behind Nina's thought processes and shenanigans. It's certainly convincing. Dear gods.

Emotion and uncertainty roll through the tactician's nerves. He'd like to take care of this efficiently while also enjoying it, he thinks. He breaths and closes his eyes in thought, while lightly keeping digits on his erection. 

This was a game his body and brain was playing with—or against—him. If his brain was playing the innocent civilian and his body was being the crafty thief/adventurer, he sure as hell had no problems with pirating at the moment; maybe it was the hot, pulsing object in his palm talking. 

Fuck it all. If Nina and Soleil were allowed to play out their fantasies weirdly and publicly, he deserves at least a little mellow satisfaction in private.

He took hold of his still-hard dick, and finally resumes his fantasy, not caring about the wool on his skin again. In his previously troubled mind, Hinata's sexual energy and participation would be unreal, Corrin theorizes. If he wanted to send hints, all he would have to do is confront that spunky samurai anywhere, public or private, and slowly and sensually run his hands on his strong arms or chest. In the bedroom, he would attempt to pace himself, but it's ultimately a fun way to pass time for him, so he does things hard, fast, and rowdy. 

Hinata is suddenly in front of him, complete with his cheerful and unkempt but raffishly handsome complex. The young blacksmith puts one knee on the bed, comes closer and strokes the prince's arm. Corrin imagines he does the same, running his own hand on Hinata's opposite bare, strong bicep, memorizing every crevice and every scar on that arm. They both would then bare and press their lips together, tongues fighting for dominance while the two men struggle to maintain breath.

He thinks Hinata might win, and after recovering from the intense bonding session, that idiot would have already stripped bare. No sensuality involved, but the welcome sight of Hinata's boyishly manly body more than made up for it. 

Oh, dragon lords, sleek, toned muscles might look good on lots of men, but when they're lean, youthful and present for the sole purpose of a little worship, anybody knows they're in for a treat. At least in his messed up head. Hinata's more than accommodating when it came to foreplay, too. 

In his fantasy, Hinata loves it when Corrin's pays intimate attention to his upper body; he would pet the prince and brush his hair lovingly, taking care not to moan too much while his partner's lips travel the valley between his developing, but solid abdominals, then pecs. One, two, three on each side. He would chuckle a little at the sight of his prince trailing a little further south, worshiping the dense, bulging muscle outlining the chest, while his partner's free hand kneads the opposite pectoral. 

The medium-sized nipples were a salty, playful treat, too, humorously yet deliciously reminiscent of sausages, he thinks. His samurai would purr—almost unusually submissive yet dominant—while his partner alternates between circular licks, sucking, then a light bite.

“Unnnh. Y-yeah, Lord Corrin. That's it, I love it. K-keep going...”

Corrin blinks back to reality again for a moment, attempting to catch his breath before befouling his now poor, sweaty pillow. He presses his shaft enthusiastically on the smooth fabric surface, too lost in his fantasy to care that he's gonna sleep in it later. He thrusts, and his cognition plays out other possibilities. Oh, Hinata.

He now imagines being pinned down beneath the retainer, his arms and legs wrapped by his partner's own. He moans as he suddenly feels friction on the underside of his cock; Hinata was pressing his own tender shaft on top, attempting to find the perfect rhythm and position. It takes a while, but the clearly experienced samurai finally discovers it and proceeds to thrust and rub both cocks frantically. 

The unreal (quite literally) sensations begin to take a toll on the prince's perception. The feeling of fabric—of skin?— intensifies, and he imagines his samurai coming in and meeting his mouth again. He imagines enjoying the feel of a slick, clearly male body above him as they desperately attempt to cum. It almost hurt, yet it felt so good.

The prince lets out a primal grunt, a signal he was nearing the goal. Hinata would have grinned that shit-grin and thrust harder, again and again before both cocks can't take it anymore. Corrin feels his groin tighten, and arches his back, feeling some sticky stripes coat his face and his upper body. While he's cumming, he feels Hinata pant-laughing and wearing his usual cheerful expression, as if they just came back from the most intense sparring session ever.

Well, technically they did. With different weapons of choice.

When Corrin wakes halfway from his orgasm-induced stupor, he sees that he's alone. The sweat and semen covering him were his and only his, and he can't help but feel a little disappointed. He doesn't feel as humbled as he would think, however, as he embraces his debauched pillow and shortly travels back to the world of dreams. He imagines having a casual conversation about the day with Hinata, all while still covered in each other's substances, and curls in fulfillment when they embrace each other's nude, worked bodies and sleep together, general cleanliness be damned. 

“Mmmmm.” he sighs. “Hina...”

He dives deeper into the ocean of dreams. Before completely drowning himself, decides that maybe fantasizing isn't too bad a distraction.

Well, as long as he wasn't outright eupneic as Setsuna or Nina.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> what do you mean this fic's just for self-gratification no it's not
> 
> edit: I planned for this to be a self-indulgence series involving more Fates guys but I'm converting this into a Hinata-only fic due to wanting to work on other things. Sorry and cheers!


End file.
